Bullets and Heroes
by Fantasy's-Priestess
Summary: AU story - What if in 'Demons', Mulder actually DID shoot Scully? Oneshot, MSF


**Hey y'all! :D Yes, yet another X-Files story…but that isn't all. This is an AU story in which Mulder actually **_**does **_**shoot Scully in 'Demons' from Season 4.**

**Enjoy! And review :D**

"Get away!" hollers Mulder as he twists away from the window and towards me. And as he does so, he draws something that I didn't even notice he has until now; a gun.

A big, threatening gun.

One that, if it went off, would put me in a world of pain. Only if it goes off of course….

Because it's Mulder holding it, I can almost fool myself that he will not shoot at me…

But then I remind myself that this isn't the Mulder I know and love. This is a Mulder high on hallucinogens that will not even hesitate to shoot me.

And even so, I have to try to get the gun out of his hand.

"Are you going to shoot me Mulder?" I asked.

His answer made me want to cry. His stout nod was like a stab to the stomach or a shot to the heart.

_This isn't Mulder…_I remind myself.

"Is that how much this means to you?"

He just gives me a blank look. A look that obviously told me, _If you make one sudden move…_

I have to get this under control.

"Mulder, listen to me. You've been given a _powerful _hallucinogen. You don't know that these memories are yours. This is not the way to the truth Mulder."

The look in Mulder's eyes makes me want to puke. Utter betrayal resides in his eyes, and I realize if I don't want him to shoot me, this isn't the right way. So I try again.

"You've got to trust me." I ask pleadingly. Under normal circumstance I have no doubts he'd answer me with his usual, 'You're the only one I trust.' But I know right now isn't a normal circumstance when he yells,

"SHUT UP!"

I almost jump a few feet in the air…but I remember now from my training in Quantico that it's not a good idea to show fear to your suspect.

I never ever would've thought that Mulder would be one of my suspects.

"Put down the gun."

A sigh is released from Mulder. He seems to physically deflate and I can see his exhaustion and fear in his eyes. I know now that this is be the perfect time to wrap up and get the gun out of his hands. So I try one more time.

"Let it go." I whisper almost tearfully as I stared into Mulder's hazel eyes. As I do so I try to ignore the barrel pointed towards my head and the shaking of my limbs. Right now, only my emotionally-distressed best friend matters to me.

All those thoughts left me however when Mulder suddenly begins to move. I gasp as Mulder tenses up again and his face suddenly crunches up like he's going to cry…and his trigger-finger begins to move. I close my eyes, waiting for the excruciating pain to fill me up.

_BANG!_ Rings throughout the room and I jump. I don't feel the bullet hit me, but I do feel the blood seep through my clothes. I'm thinking it's the adrenaline pumping through my veins that keeps me from feeling the bullet in my…God, I don't even know where I'm shot!

I open my eyes and I find myself looking straight into Mulder's eyes. They're glazed over and I can barely see any emotions in his eyes, something that unnerves me. Mulder's usually an open book, so it's strange for him to hide from me.

The gun is still smoking in his hand. A wave of hurt rushes through me at the sight and I have to look away…I look down towards my wound.

My white blouse is slowly becoming red as I watch in awe. He did it. My best friend shot me. Out of all the scenarios I had coming into this house today, I never thought that he'd actually shoot me—

"O-oh!" I gasp as the adrenaline rush slows down and the pain of the shot suddenly hits me. My hand instinctively goes to the wound and comes back red. I stare wide-eyed at it.

_I've been shot._ Is all I can think as fear seeps into my very bones, _I could die, I could die…all because my _best friend _shot me…_

I want to fall to the ground but I'm afraid that Mulder won't catch me this time and it'll hurt way too much.

But within seconds of thinking that my legs wobble in weakness. Before I can stop myself I fall to my knees and grit my teeth in pain. Because of the pain touching every fibre of my being, I don't even notice Mulder's eyes unhaze and widen.

I don't notice Mulder's arm drop or hear the gun clang to the floor. I don't even notice him falling to his own knees.

But I do happen to notice him crawling on all fours towards me.

Because of this, and because of the fact that the man just shot me, I understandably flinch away from him despite the pain in my abdomen. Mulder flinches away from me as well, probably in shame, before moving forward again but ever so slowly.

I gasp shallowly as the blood comes out faster. I use one of my hands to feel around me for something to cover up the bleeding wound, but unfortunately for me there's nothing near. So despite the pain I use my own hand to cover me up.

_Where are they…Where's the team…that's supposed…to come in at…any sign of movement or…gunshots? _I think brokenly as I feel the blood seep from in between my fingers.

I'm so into trying to string my thoughts together that I jump when Mulder's large hand touches the hand that's covering my wound. I bite my lip to keep from jumping away in fright.

I must remember that Mulder's still my best friend and doesn't deserve to be treated as a killer.

He gently tugs at my fingers and tries to pull my hand away; I fight to keep my fingers on the injury.

But Mulder's a stubborn man.

He pulls a little harder and in the weak state I'm in I don't bother to fight. After all, the guns way over there, so what worse can he do to me? He's already done the worst.

Mulder looks sadly at my blood-covered hand and within seconds he covers it and entwines his own hand with mine.

He looks at my wound and a slight gasp leaves his lips. He seems shocked at what he's done, which shows me he's either on his way back to me or already back; a relief I must say.

So I do the only thing I can think of to survive.

"Mulder…" I whisper.

He looks up with sad eyes.

"I need you…to…give me something…to cover up…the wound." I whisper, trying not to cry at the pain in my stomach.

Mulder stares hopelessly at me for a few seconds before nodding determinedly and taking his shirt and ripping off the bottom, giving me enough material to cover the wound and sponge up a little bit of the blood—

"FREEZE!"

Mulder and I gasp and look at the sudden light. It's coming from a flashlight that a cop is holding. And being held in the same hands of the cop is a gun—

Mulder seems to see it too and with an agility that shocks me, he's up in a flash and standing in front of me protectively.

Following that one cop comes many others and I recognize them as the cops from outside, the cops that were helping me find Mulder. I have to stop Mulder from hurting them and let them get to me.

"Mulder…they're…good…let them…" is all I can get out.

Mulder looks towards me and when he sees how weak I've become, he instantly moves. He knows it's for my own good…good…

~~~~~~::~~~~~~

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_What the…?_

My eyes feel heavy as I come back to consciousness, but I fight the heaviness. I get my eyes to flutter and what I barely see confuses me. White. Plain, pure white.

_Am I in heaven?_

The thought brings tears under my eyelids.

_I never would've thought…that the shot my best friend fired at me would take me from this life faster than my cancer did. God…I never got to tell him—_

"Scully?"

Heavy or not, my eyes opened faster than they ever have. _Is that Mulder?_

I lift my head and gasp silently. Mulder's at my bedside, in a wheelchair, with a hospital gown on and a tiny smile on his face.

_Wait a minute…hospital gown…wheelchair…bedside…_

"I'm in a hospital!" I cry as I connect the dots.

Mulder laughs heartily at my exclamation. His breathless laugh makes me smile, despite the fact it isn't his regular, true laugh. Seeing him laugh ever always makes me smile, since he does it so rarely.

Sure, he grins and smirks and chuckles, but never does he full-blown laugh.

Which makes it such a great occasion when he does.

"Good to see you awake Scully." Mulder grins as his laughter fades.

"It's good to see _you_…" I say without thinking. Mulder frowns at my words and I mentally slap myself…but I don't take it back. Because it's the truth. And Mulder loves the truth. So he can accept it.

Mulder seems to think that my slip-up was from the drugs in my system because he begins talking again, "You have no idea how worried I've been…It's been 2 days since I've seen those blue eyes of yours." Mulder gives me a relieved smile.

I blush a deep dark red before what Mulder says hits me. "Wait…2 days? I couldn't have been out for possibly that long!" I ask.

Mulder's smile falters, but never leaves as he continues, "Turns out that my dragging you all over the place and practically forgetting your sick isn't good for your body, Scully."

I frown, confused. "The doctors have told me that I'm perfectly fine to do my job—"

"Your _doctors," _Mulder said scornfully (not at the doctors, but towards himself), "Never anticipated me."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" I ask.

"It means that your doctors didn't know you have a selfish partner who, instead of taking care of you, has taken you on wild goose chases and put you in danger."

"Mulder, that's absurd. I _choose _to go with you. It's not like you force me." I say with a roll of my eyes. Mulder just gives me a look in response, his look of '_You-aren't-convincing-me-otherwise'_.

"Seriously. Stop it, or pain or not I'm going to get up and kick your ass."

Mulder chuckles, appreciating the joke…but I can see the chuckling and the smile aren't reaching his eyes.

"No…" Mulder sobers suddenly, "Don't go getting up Scully. Apparently the wound plus your cancer has weakened you considerably and you could seriously hurt yourself. So it's nothing but bedpans and hospital food for awhile."

I frown, outraged. "Mulder! I feel perfectly fine—"

"Just because you feel fine doesn't mean you are." says Mulder sternly.

I can tell there's a double meaning behind his words; in those words not only was he talking about my gunshot wound but also about my cancer. About how, assuming since I looked and acted fine, Mulder could pretend and act like the cancer isn't in me…even though it's killing me.

I can't bring myself to say anything but, "Mulder…" because honestly, what else can I say?

After all, he is partially right by blaming himself; he _did _shoot me and he could've been a little easier on me when it came to work; but at the same time he has it totally wrong. When I work, I also tended to forget about the cancer…and I probably shouldn't have walked into that house unprotected just because I assumed that he wouldn't shoot me because of our friendship…

"I can see I'm probably overwhelming you…" Mulder sighs, looking as guilty as ever, "I guess I should go." And with that, before I can even protest, he puts his hands on the wheels of his wheelchair and begins to back away—

"Hey, wait!"

Mulder pauses and looks back at me.

"Why…why are you in a wheelchair?" I ask, worry for my friend shining through in my weak state.

"Well…" Mulder sighs, wheeling forward so he's back at my bedside, "The doctors are as concerned as you were in the beginning, so…they've forced me into this chair and refuse to let me get up. They even threatened to tie me to it."

"Nice hospital." I smile, knowing I would've done the same thing they did—if I was awake of course.

"Yeah, sure." says Mulder sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

I know it's probably killing him that he's not moving around on his own (he's such a mover—he can barely stay still for more than an hour). But I guess it's what he deserves for pulling this stupid prank that landed me here.

"So…have they been treating you well?" I ask seriously. The reason I ask is twofold; I want to know what I'm going to have to deal with soon and I want to keep him in the room.

He may not realize it but I don't want him to leave my side. When I thought I was dead, I wanted nothing more but to be back by Mulder's side…

I realize that I'm basically wishing for my shooter to stay at my bedside (and that's how he's probably thinking of this right now)…but I can't think of him as the person who shot me. I must think of him as the friend that I would forgive anything of.

And I must make him realize that's how I see him.

"The place isn't too bad…the nurses are nice but take no bullshit, the doctors are none too shabby and the beds are pretty comfortable as you can probably tell. Their food sucks though." Mulder lists off.

"The food sucks in every hospital we've been in." I comment.

"Very true. The people who supply the food to hospitals should probably taste the food they serve…if they did, I guarantee they'd see it as we see it—"

"Inedible crap." We both say in unison before we break out into laughter.

We laugh long and heartily…until I begin to cough. Hard. I hold one hand to my ribs and the other my mouth as I cough and cough and cough.

Mulder has long since stopped laughing and is now trying to help by leaning over and patting my back. I wave him off, and I knew if I could speak I would be saying, "I'm fine."

But I'm far from fine.

My stomach feels like its ripping open and the racking coughs are not helping me.

In a pause between coughs, I finally manage to say to Mulder, "Water." before coughing more. He does as told and quickly hands me a cup of ice water.

I drink greedily, knowing this will _definitely_ help my cough. He helps me drink the water by holding the glass to my lips and I'm grateful; after all, I'm probably too weak to hold it up on my own.

He helps me drink until the water's halfway gone and the coughs have receded. I thank him with my eyes as I lay back again, my ribs throbbing. But I try to hide this, because I know Mulder probably feeling guilty for no reason at the moment.

And I'm right, because I look over as the pain finally dulls to an ache and I see him looking down at his hands. I can tell by his posture that he's upset—with himself, not with me.

"Mulder, that had nothing to do with you—"

"Don't bother Scully."

"Yes I will bother!" I cry, sitting up (careful of my throbbing ribs all the while though). Mulder looks like he would've preferred me lying down but I honestly don't care.

"You can't do this anymore! This whole guilt thing! I know it's normal for the 'hero' to suffer from guilt and regret," I cry sarcastically, "But it has to stop! Especially since this has nothing to do with you!" I know it has a little bit with Mulder, but at the moment I'm so wound up being truthful that I can't help the comforting lie that slips out.

Mulder answers angrily, "'Hero'? _Hero? _As if Scully! I can't even save my baby sister let alone anyone else! And do you want to know what _you _have to stop? Taking responsibility for my stupid actions!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, _hero_." Mulder hissed.

"Ugh! You are so _frustrating!"_ I cry, hiding my face in my hands.

"Newsflash: you are too." Says Mulder, less angry this time around.

"I guess we both are…That's why we're so compatible." I point out with the tiniest of smiles, hoping to go back to some sort of normalcy after that outburst.

"Agreed…that's also what we like about each other." Mulder also points out, a small smile gracing his lips as well.

"Yep…we just love a challenge don't we?" I laugh slightly, no longer as angry as before.

"Yes we do." Mulder nods with a grin.

I cautiously reach over and Mulder instantly put his hand in mine.

We give each other half-hearted smiles—we both know that even though we'll have many a milestone to get over…we know that for now, we're both quite alright.

**My longest oneshot yet :D **

**P.S. ****Review**** please! **


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